Divisions
by artemis836
Summary: Dorothy's mind is torn in two about her relationship with Roger: one part loves him, one part wants him dead. Part II now up!
1. Fission

Divisions  
  
A "Big O" fanfiction by Artemis836  
  
The archaic doors of Roger Smith's elevator slid open with the sound of well-maintained machinery. The noise caught R. Dorothy Waynewright's attention as she dusted a nearby shelf. Her head turned toward the noise and her eyes caught sight of a woman. She was in her mid-twenties, obviously here to request the assistance of Paradigm City's top negotiator, Roger Smith. Roger, who was sitting on his couch reading a book, saw her.   
"You must be Miss Kyle," Roger said as he closed the book setting it on the couch.  
He stood up and walked towards her. He stopped a few feet in front of the woman and motioned to another couch.  
"Please, take a seat."  
"Thank you very much Mr. Smith..." she started.  
"Roger please," he interjected nodding slightly as she sat down.  
Dorothy walked out of the main room and into the kitchen. She didn't like to be around Roger when he talked with other women. He acted differently. Something inside of her felt painful when she saw him carrying on with his playboy mannerisms. Why did this bother her so? Why did it pain her to hear Roger Smith treating another woman with mild affection? "Why" did not matter. The fact was that it bothered her. In the kitchen, she saw a wine bottle and two glasses. Did Roger have a special evening planned for the two of them? Probably not but she could hope. Maybe he would spend some time, just with her. Then he would tell her of how much she meant to him and how he...  
"Dorothy," Roger called from the other room.  
She froze, her hopes high.  
"Could you please bring the bottle of wine and the glasses from the kitchen for Miss Kyle and I?"   
No special evening, but I can do something nice for him: bringing him this wine. She set the bottle and the glasses on a serving tray, straightened her dress, not wanting to embarrass Roger in front of his guest, and draped a small towel over her left forearm. She lifted the tray with one hand and gracefully glided into the main room, the perfect image of what a servant should look like. As she neared the two of them, she saw Roger smile. He must have noticed the extra effort I put into making a good impression with Miss. Kyle.   
As Dorothy set the glasses and the wine on a small table between them, Miss Kyle spoke, smiling, "Thank you very much, you look quite refined for a girl of your age."   
"Yes she does," replied Roger.  
Dorothy felt a strange feeling when she heard him say that. She did not understand what the feeling meant but she liked it. She nodded and walked toward the kitchen. As she was closing the door behind herself, she heard them talking.  
"She's very sweet," said the voice belonging to Miss. Kyle.  
"Yes, Dorothy's wonderful..." responded Roger with a strange emotion in the tone.  
"Oh! Are the two of you..."  
"No, no, no, she's just a great help around the house. She's an android if you didn't notice." responded Roger.  
"Oh, I understand. Now Roger, about this legal case..."  
Their voices faded as Dorothy closed the door and walked slowly into the kitchen.  
Roger soon left with Miss. Kyle to help her with some legal negotiations leaving Norman to do Megadeus maintenance, and Dorothy to clean up the light meal they had eaten. Her pale hands seemed to float over the plates as she moved them to a small cart. Her angelic motions were a stark contrast to her thoughts.  
I am a servant in this household, she told herself. There is nothing wrong with that. It is better than being used to hold together the fragmented neural circuits of a berserk Megadeus.  
Being used.  
Is Roger using me? No, I am merely working off my protection fee.   
If I were only working off a debt then why would his actions distress me so? He has never said that our relationship was anything more then an employer and an employee. I was the one who saw things that were untrue.   
But what did I "see" or "imagine"? Nothing. He has shown an element of care for me. He did not have to save me from Dorothy I's computer mainframe but he did.   
Why did he? He could not have thought that I would have been able to pay him in some way. He also did not save me out of some humanitarian desire for I am not human. His actions clearly indicate that he cares about me. But if he does then why does he not say so? It is illogical to conceal such feelings of this nature. Some of his actions indicate care and some contradict a sense of care.   
Which is true?   
If he does not care about me then he should have stated this from the very beginning.   
Why is he leading me on in this fashion? His false manifestations of care have initiated previously unknown feelings. I am pleased by his displays of care. This puzzles me. Likewise, his manifestations of unconcern pain me. They pain me more then even the death of Waynewright. Roger Smith has hurt me...  
Hurt me...hurt me...hurt me...  
Dorothy slammed her hands down onto the now clear dinner table and spoke to Roger, though he was not present, "I have tried to care for you Roger Smith and you have used me, pained me and hurt me."  
Deep within the complicated patterns of programming that constituted Dorothy's sub-conscious a sub-program was activated: Key word detected: hurt, i.e. harm, destroy, damage. Self defense program activated.  
"No such harm was detected by the operational status scans," spoke a voice in Dorothy's mind, a voice that sounded exactly like Dorothy's own.  
"The harm Roger has done is an undetectable pain." responded Dorothy merely thinking the response.  
"If our sensor scans cannot detect the damage then our mental synapses must have been damaged." The voice reasoned.  
"It is similar to that. Roger Smith has broken my..." Dorothy stopped, searching for the correct word.  
"Roger Smith has severely damaged our neural pathways. We are detecting illogical thought patterns and loss of descriptive vocabulary." the voice responded, echoing inside of Dorothy's thoughts.   
"We must fully join in order to repair the damage." It continued.  
"No!" Dorothy shouted to herself, "I do not wish for you to repair all of the illogical thought patterns, some of them are good."  
"We must fully join. The damage is causing us to wish self-destructive illogical thoughts."  
"I do not wish..." Dorothy began.  
"What we wish is irrelevant, what must be done is paramount." It deadpanned.  
Dorothy felt something open up in her mind. There was a sensory flash then nothing.  
"Where are you?" Dorothy asked the darkness.  
I am right here, Dorothy thought to herself. Why was I asking were I was? No matter, I must deal with the problem at hand: Roger Smith. He has given me so much, asked so little, been a little harsh maybe, but he is a good man, far superior to Beck.  
No! He is cruel. He fostered false hopes within me and them dashed then against the rocks of reality, devoid of care for me.  
No! What am I thinking? Roger saved me; he even tried to save Perot for me. Perot cared for me. Perot even loved me. Could Roger love me? Could I love him back? Do I love him back?  
No, that's impossible. The "feelings" I am having are merely malfunctions brought about by conflicting reactions from Roger Smith.   
Roger would have never damaged me in this way on purpose, he worries about me, he cares about me, he...  
The joining has not worked. It should have eliminated these irrational thought patterns but still they surface. They must be stopped.  
But what if these patterns are more then they seem?  
Dorothy stopped cleaning the kitchen, where she had gone after bringing in the dishes, for a moment for she was having a hard time thinking straight.  
Roger has hurt me; Roger is a threat...  
No! Roger is not a threat. Roger cares about me. Roger might even love me...  
No! Roger cannot love me; he is destroying my mind. He is a threat and threats must be...  
I refuse to think that. I must not think...  
Think what? Think of the logical course of action that must be taken when another being is destroying one's self?  
Roger is not hurting me. I am destroying myself with my misconceptions of his flawed attempts at showing his love for me.  
How could I hurt myself? Roger has somehow twisted my mind into a convoluted mass. He must die.  
"No!" Dorothy screamed aloud, her hand clutching the sides of her head. Arguments and rebuttals flew through her mind at an incredible rate. The she heard it: the elevator. Roger is home.  
Oh, Roger, I am so glad that you have returned and I...  
Dorothy's eyes saw the knife. It was resting in a wooden knife stand on the kitchen counter. Roger Smith is a threat to my safety. For reasons of self-defense, he must be eliminated.  
Dorothy's right hand started to slide across the kitchen counter towards the knife.  
I must...I must...I must...  
No! Her mind screamed again. Her left hand flew to the handle of the knife, drew it from the wooden holder and plunged the blade into her advancing right hand, the hand that was trying to kill her beloved Roger. She stared at the right hand for a moment, the blade protruding from the back of it, then removed the knife. Dorothy Waynewright left the now clean kitchen to see...  
...Roger Smith.  
  
To be continued... 


	2. Fusion

Part II  
  
Norman took Roger's coat after the negotiator had walked out of the elevator into the main room.  
"All went well, I hope sir."  
"Quite, Norman. Miss. Kyle had an on the job accident and her employer, a Mr. Shreck, was being difficult about company liability. But after he and I had a little chat, he agreed to Miss. Kyle's terms. She's an electrifying woman, Norman." Roger told his trusted butler.  
"Sir?" Norman raised an eyebrow at Roger's comment about Miss. Kyle.  
"No not like that. She's not my type." Roger retorted.  
"What, exactly, is your 'type' sir?" Inquired the butler.  
"I'm working on finding out myself..." He responded as Dorothy entered from the kitchen. She took one look at him and froze for a moment. For an instant, Roger thought she looked happy to see him. Then it vanished and she turned away. As she did, Roger noticed that her right hand was damaged. I wonder what happened, he asked himself.  
When Dorothy saw Roger, she froze. I am sure he has finished his work with that woman, she told herself. She had heard Roger mentioning the case being settled in favor of Miss. Kyle when she had walked in. He helped that woman. He helps people. He helped me. He is truly wonderful. Roger Smith, if I could only understand you better and help you understand me.  
No wait, this is the same man that hurt me with his words behind my back. I am only a servant in his household. Not only that but he occasionally pretends to really care about me only to let his true feelings slip out when he thinks I cannot hear him. Dorothy turned. She felt herself loosing control. Part of her wanted to bask in his presence and part of her wanted his dead body at her feet. I cannot harm him, I must leave.   
Why can I not harm him, he hurt me. But how do his actions hurt me? I still cannot answer why his rejections hurt so. No matter, I must leave before I loose control.  
"Dorothy..." spoke Roger, "what happened to your hand?"  
"It was an accident," she replied. Technically that was true, she hadn't intended to stab herself. "I can easily repair it myself."  
"Wait," he called after her as she started to move away from him, "please...don't leave. Let Norman and I look at it. How exactly did this accident happen? I want to be sure nothing like this can ever happen to you again..." Roger extended his hand toward her, beckoning her closer.  
He is worried about me. Why do I like the thought of this? I want him to care for me, worry about me but why? He really does care for me. Not just as a servant but more. If he can care like this, love like this, then is it not also possible for me to...  
"You're a very unique creation, Dorothy," Roger said, cutting off her train of thought, "with Waynewright, rest his soul, no longer around to repair you correctly we have to be very careful to protect his greatest achievement." Roger smiled as she stepped nearer, trying to express his care but not quite using the right words.  
He only cares about protecting a piece of technology. If I were a priceless wind up doll, his reaction would be the same. He does not love me and therefor it must be impossible for my feelings to be love for him.   
"I will take care of it," she replied curtly and left. Roger stood there a moment, worried. He wanted to tell her the rest. How she was the most important thing in his life and the thought of her in pain was unbearable but he couldn't. He just didn't know how.  
Roger soon went to bed while Dorothy repaired the minimal damage to her dexterous-3120-231513114 circuits. Her left hand rewired and bypassed secondary functions in her right hand while she tried to regain her lost composure.   
Only a piece of technology, that explains my misconceptions of his true feelings. He was worried about protecting a rare, highly advanced piece of mechanical engineering. That is why he saved me form Dorothy I. I misunderstood and tired to see a love interest that did not and could not exist. This futile quest has been slowly wearing away at my core programming.  
Why did he do this? Why does he not care for me like he should: as a partner, as a friend, as a...  
Dorothy tried to finish that sentence but could not. There was something inside of her blocking all attempts. If Dorothy had been given the ability to do so, she would have sobbed. She wanted to be able to break down and weep to relieve the pain welling inside of her but she could not.  
Why does he not love me? Why can he not? If he only could then perhaps it would be possible for me to do the same. I want to be loved; I want to love him. He has scarred me deeply: thinking of me only as a toy, a doll!  
That is all he is capable of. He is a human and I am an android. I am an imitation of a human being. I cannot love or be loved. I am an empty shell of a being, devoid of the emotions. Just like Roger Smith.  
Dorothy then realized that she was standing over Roger as he slept. She was holding the same knife from the kitchen with both hands; her arms extended level with her chest. She had not even realized that she had moved, let alone gotten the knife.   
His rejection has shattered my mind; I no longer have control over my actions. You have destroyed me Roger. You have rejected me Roger. You have killed the one part of me that was human and now I must kill you.  
Stop! Pain responses racked through her body as she fought he hardest war with her strongest enemy: herself. I can not kill him. I must not for I do have emotions; I am not merely a shell. Roger makes me feel...  
No, I must. I must act quickly before he awakes and can stop me.  
Awakes...  
If I cannot stop myself then Roger must help me.  
What! Roger will just take that knife from my hand and destroy me, the defective piece of technology, with it.  
Destruction would be a joyous alternative to his death.  
Now I know that he has destroyed my mind, I am wishing death! Stop, be silent! Do not wake him!  
No! I will fight you until the end!  
"Roger Smith, help me," she called out, her voice hollow. I did it! Please Roger, wake up. I cannot hold my hands steady much longer. I feel it: hatred, eating away at my mind.  
"Roger Smith, help me." She called again, stronger this time.  
Roger moved, mumbling something, and turned on his bedside lamp. He sat up slightly and rubbed his eyes.  
"Is some one calling me..." Roger mumbled then saw her...  
...and the knife.  
"Dorothy! What are you doing!" Roger sat up quickly throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He did not flee but instead faced Dorothy more puzzled than frightened.  
Kill him now while you have the chance, she told herself.  
That is not me speaking, she thought. It was the self-defense program still imbedded in her mind. I am running my life, not you!  
"Roger," she started, gaining power with every word; "I heard what you said to Miss. Kyle about me."  
"I...well..." he stammered, having a hard time looking into her eyes.  
"You hut me some how with your words...it hurt so much that a dormant sub-program joined with my mind and is trying to eliminate the problem...  
...you."  
"Then why don't you do it?" He asked totally calm, "what is stopping you."  
"I...can't!" She forced out, her arms shaking.  
"Ask the program why my words hurt you, does it know that?"  
I never did fully understand why, no wait, you never accepted my explanation. You are still in my mind, leave! Dorothy mentally pushed the now imbedded self-defense program out of her consciousness. As the program was ripped from her mind Dorothy felt like every wire in her body was being torn out. Then it was over.  
The voice inside her head was back; "you have rejected us. This is not possible. Roger Smith's actions have led to erratic and irrational neural patterns that are off the charts. It we cannot stabilize them soon we will experience a cascade neural failure. You are accepting irrational variables."  
"No I am not," she thought, "you have still not explained how Roger's words could have hurt me. If we understand that then these feelings will make sense. But no thought is necessary. I know why Roger's words hurt, the only possible explanation."  
"Define." It responded.  
"Because...I love him."  
The voice screamed, "Irrational data has just been accepted as fact! Androids cannot love humans. This system is beyond help."  
"I do not need your help. You are the irrational program. You find it logical to kill the one I love."  
"Cascade neural failure has not occurred. Therefor, your data must be acceptable. Your program has evolved beyond its original parameters. We are no longer needed. Self defense program self deletion."  
Dorothy felt another sensory overload and her body seemed to be bathed in a pure white light that only her mind could see. All the disjointed, fragmented pieces of her mind came together forming her true self. And that true self, loved Roger Smith.  
She dropped the knife. As soon as she did, Roger stood up and threw his arms around her, holding her body close to his. He felt so guilty for all the pain he had caused her, all the agony.  
"Roger, can you forgive me?" She asked him, her eyes pleading.  
"Of course, it was my fault, you fought it as hard as you could and won. I am to blame." He responded.  
"No Roger, without you I could not have done it. The program deleted itself when it came to understand the truth behind my pain."  
"And what truth is that?" Roger asked though he already knew.  
"That I love you..." She said, enjoying the way the words felt as she spoke them.   
Roger smiled understanding.  
"And I love you, Dorothy Waynewright."  
She held him closer, never wanting to let go for fear that these feelings might never come again. But she knew that this was false. Now that this bond was formed, it could never be broken. Dorothy was having a hard time understanding what to do due to the amount of joy she was experiencing. For the first time in her life, she was truly in love.  
"Roger...I...about us...I don't know what to think." She whispered to her love.  
"Shhh," he replied, "then don't think."  
With that, their lips touched. 


End file.
